Broken Strands
by Serris
Summary: What I like to think of as a different view on Obi-Wan's thoughts and feelings during the hours of his Master's death and after.


**_Broken Strands_**  
Written by: Karen Walker  
Beta by: Stephanie Watson and Jenavira (with help from Jessica on grammar!)  
2000  
  
  
Disclaimer: I suppose I've got to say it sooner or later, so here goes: All of the characters portrayed in this short story are property of George Lucas and Lucasfilm and in no way am I profiting from the following text. Also, before you read on, I'd like to make sure that you know there are *SPOILERS* from Episode I in the following text, so if you've never seen the movie and you don't want some of it ruined, be sure to hit the back button. If you do read on, enjoy!   
  
Note: Oh, and one last thing... it's a bit rough because I wrote it pretty fast, so if anyone sees anything wrong with it, or has any comments, be sure to drop me a line, because I *love* feedback of any kind.   
  
Note (2): First update of the story! Hopefully this one flows smoothly in comparison. I have to thank Jenavira (and Jessica) for beta-reading for this story's second time around. Also, thanks to my wonderful sister for working through it the first time!   
  
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Patience was said to be the greatest virtue of a Jedi, yet I had none. In front of me stood a barrier stood, it's lines of pure energy separating me from my Master. Only one barrier kept me back and there was nothing I could do but bide my time and try to keep my mind on the Force.   
  
It was difficult to watch the scene unfold before my eyes, yet I could do nothing; at least not at the moment. I expected everything to be in slow motion as the Sith Lord ran my Master through, but it was nothing but a blur moving across my vision. I could see his pained face... I had never heard such a look come from Master Qui-Gon in all the years we were together.   
  
Watching in horror, I cried out my protest as the man I had grown to think of as a father crumbled to the ground in pain. In one instant, my mind trailed back to think of how I must use patience and the Force as my Master had taught me, but when the cruel Sith who had killed him faced me, my thoughts melted away. Under the gaze of a murderer, I could feel my eyes blazing with fire as I gripped my lightsaber tighter. My blood boiled in my veins and in my head my mind cried for vengeance so loudly, it masked the calm voices that had been there all my life.   
  
The energy barrier released me from my captivity in a painfully slowly as the Sith grinned at me in triumph. Moving away from the doorway, I started my angry attacks one after another, without any reservation or thought of consequences. It was all another blur to me as my senses left me and I acted upon the will of my anger and inner demons I had suppressed up to that point.   
  
The battle was the most heated I had ever been in. On no less then five occasions I was sure that I would die, yet I did not. Each time the sharp-toothed butcher swung his lightsaber at me, I was able to defend my ground and even push him back from his own. Perhaps it was the Force looking after me, or perhaps something else. In either case, it soon wore off and I found myself hanging from a spare excuse of a grip over a drop that had to be at least a mile.   
  
Overhead I heard the sound of rubber connecting to metal and in a glance upward, I saw my lightsaber fly over the ledge and past me. I heard its metallic shell hitting the walls as it made its way down, and the thought went through my mind that a person hitting those walls would not sound nearly as loud.   
  
Looking up once again, I saw that unearthly grin looking at me. My feet dangled below me and as a last resort I took a deep breath and concentrated on the Force. It took some work, but soon I could feel all that was around me; even the push of the air on my body. I saw my Master's lightsaber next to his body, as well, and in one quick spurt of strength and concentration I threw myself back onto the floor above and had his lightsaber in my hand.   
  
The ghastly man standing in front of me seemed surprised that I could do such as thing, and stood there bewildered. I could not understand why he did not prepare to fight, but I took advantage of the situation and took my revenge, slicing the enemy in half and watching him fall to the same place as my lightsaber.   
  
Quietly I breathed for a moment and watched the Sith gain distance away from myself before looking to my Master who still laid upon the floor. He looked dead to me, but I knew better when I saw the light rise and fall of his chest. I moved quickly to him at that point, feeling the bond between himself and I and knowing he was close to the end.   
  
Lifting him from the floor, I supported him and when he began to talk I heard the wavering of his voice. He started to say something, his eyes looking into me or mine, and after a moment he continued his words: "It's too late..." His voice was strong but quiet as it always had been, but there was something more to it; something bordering on the edge of fear.   
  
I sat listening to his last words. He mentioned the boy, Anakin, asking me to train him. He had believed since he had met the child that he was the Chosen One and he would not let something such as that pass the universe by. I felt the sting of tears trailing down my cheeks as he spoke and when he wiped them away I knew that he was more that just my Master; he was my father, my friend and my life up until that point.   
  
Inside I hurt. I knew that he cared for me as well as the boy, but it seemed as though all his thoughts and feelings dwelt upon the one younger than I. Couldn't my Master tell how much it hurt me that he talked of one who would bring balance, yet never once mentioned the one he had spent years training? I was sure that he must have seen the pain in my eyes as he laid back and I watched him slip away without so much as a goodbye.   
  
I was not quite sure how long I sat and cried beside his cold body, but I did know that inside I felt more pain than could ever be inflicted by a thousand lightsabers. Not only had the bond between my Master and I been broken, but I felt betrayed by his words. It seemed childish of me, but I found myself crying and asking in the back of my mind "How can that boy be more important to him than me?"   
  
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It was not until I was back in my quarters that I completely realized what had happened. My Master was dead and all I had to show for it was a promise to train a boy that my Master felt was more important than I. How could I have agreed to do it? I did not want to train the boy, but I had made a promise and never would not uphold his dying wish.   
  
It did not take long for the Jedi Council to contact me, and I went to them with a heavy heart. I'm sure they were easy on me, for I know that my thoughts dwelt on what had happened and how betrayed I felt. Perhaps they understood, because within a short time they had come to tell me that I had passed my task and was now a true Jedi Knight.   
  
I told Master Yoda that I was to take the boy as my Padawan-Learner and I could tell that it caused much dismay inside of him. However, he knew of the promise I had made and that, no matter what, I would not break such a sacred thing. With much consideration he told me that the Council would allow it and with that, he left, and I was free to go home once again.   
  
My room had not changed since I had left earlier in the day, which came as a welcome thing. Moving to the mirror, I studied my reflection, noting the dark circles beneath my eyes and the traces of red that showed I had been crying. Among those things I saw the scenes of my Master's death flash before my eyes and saw myself flinch away.   
  
It took me a moment to calm myself and looking back at my face, I saw the reflections of Master Qui-Gon's features in my own. They were subtle, but it made me wonder if it was true that one started taking on the traits of the people they were close to. Maybe it was my own foolish imagination that saw him in that reflection, but I hoped beyond hope that it was not.   
  
His last words had echoed though my mind over and over throughout the time I spent at home, and I could not help but think that he could not have loved me as a father and a friend if he had not said goodbye to me. "Why had his thoughts dwelt on that boy so much when I would have given everything for his life?!" I asked myself, angrily, watching my face distort in pain.   
  
With all of my anger and fury that I had kept bottled up since his death, I grabbed a pair of scissors and lashed out, cutting the braid that Qui-Gon had woven there when I was so young. I thought for sure that it would help the hurt inside myself, but as the long braid fell to the floor, I felt no better.   
  
Looking to the mirror, I saw myself crying and looked at the place my braid used to be, understanding how being quick to succumb to your feelings could be a mistake. I had not meant to cut the braid in anger but I had, and now that I saw what those feelings had made me, I was afraid.   
  
I dropped the scissors onto the table in front of me, not even looking down to the knick they made in the perfectly stained wood. I was hurt and tired and frustrated, but most of all, saddened deeply. I had lost the man I had learned to trust since as far back as I could remember, and his last words had not even included a goodbye. How could that be...?   
  
Stepping away from my reflection, I stumbled down onto the floor, bringing my knees up and resting my elbows upon them. Fresh tears welled up and I buried my head away from the world, unsure of whether I should have been ashamed of myself or the one I had looked up to.   
  
I doubt I could have sat there and not forgiven my Master, but I also would always remember that he had gone without saying his farewells, and that hurt me. Perhaps that was his plan and he thought it would make me stronger. He was wrong, for in the end, my will was weak and I cared not to build it up again.   
  



End file.
